


We Knew Nothing of Winter

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot, Past Character Death, Scars, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Requited love is marked by black marks on the wrist. Castiel bears none and Dean Winchester... well... no one is quite sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Knew Nothing of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> idek what i'm doing

The man who comes in every morning always wears layers; an undershirt, a long sleeved plaid shirt, and a jacket, sometimes leather sometimes not. He never shows his arms and his face is worn and haggard most of the time. Castiel never asks the man to reveal his arms, even though everyone around the small restaurant wants to _know_ about the mysterious drifter. Castiel remembers how, once, the man was confronted by another, and how the stranger had put the other man flat on his ass and told him he’d cut off his fingers if he was touched again.

 

Castiel didn’t blame the man, it really wasn’t anyone’s business to know how many tally marks he did or did not bear. Castiel bears none himself; he has never been in love and since he does not have many friends, he has a feeling he will continue on never falling in love. People look at him funny, since he’s close to twenty-eight now, and he should be married with children. But he didn’t mind.

 

The man walks in and Castiel is determined to get his name today. As soon as he sits, Castiel makes his way over to the table he’s chosen, which is always the same; the one in the very back, facing everyone else. Gabriel calls it _mafia seating_ , which Castiel supposes is appropriate, since the man is so mysterious and quite private. He walks up and pours some coffee into a generic, white, ceramic mug and the man nods his thanks, taking a sip of the black beverage.

 

“I’m Castiel,” he says quietly, hoping today is the day he’ll learn the man’s name.

 

At first, Castiel receives no answer, but eventually the man looks up at him, his eyes dark green, amber in hints; they’re beautiful. “Dean,” he says, his voice as rough as his face. “Dean Winchester.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Dean Winchester.” Castiel smiles and offers his hand. His uniform - a plain, white, button up shirt, under a forest green apron - reveals his arms, since he rolled up the sleeves earlier, to be free of marks. No tallies for him.

 

Dean takes his hand reluctantly and gives it a firm, strong shake. “Yeah. Nice to meet you too…?”

 

“Castiel,” he says again. “Castiel Novak.”

 

“That’s a peculiar name,” Dean remarks.

 

“My parents were big on the Bible,” he says with a helpless shrug. The way Dean smirks makes Castiel’s hear swell a few sizes too big. Since Dean is so reserved and withdrawn, it was nice to see him open up just a little.

 

“My parents were big on family names,” Dean replies. “Brother’s name is Sam… Grandfather’s name was Samuel, and my grandmother was Deanna.”

 

Castiel smiles and almost sits down across from Dean, wanting to learn everything there is to know about him, but he can’t. He has to work which is unfortunate. “That’s fascinating.”

 

“And a bit unoriginal,” Dean says with a snort. “I’ll have my usual.”

 

Castiel nods and slinks away to the kitchens to tell Gabriel, Dean’s order. His brother gives him a thumbs up and Castiel returns to the front register. Anna is busy on the floor so he stays on alert to make sure he isn’t needed elsewhere. Castiel smiles at the older couple as they walk up to the register - they’re also regulars, but today, Castiel can tell something is wrong.

 

“Honey, I said I was _sorry_ -.”

 

“Don’t _talk_ to me Eugene!” The wife, her name is Darla, puts money down on the counter, tears running down her wizened cheeks. “Hello Dear, how are you today?” she asks, her voice watery and shaking.

 

Castiel blinks and slowly accepts their bill to ring up, feeling a great amount of worry fill him. “I’m okay… Is everything alright?” he asks timidly as he counts out her change.

 

Darla shakes her head and glares back at her husband, who is standing by the door waiting on her. “Woke up this morning and… and…” She dabs at her eyes with her sleeve. “Eugene had a new mark on his wrist… Fresh and new.”

 

Castiel’s eyes widened. “But… You’ve been married for-.”

 

“Forty years!” she cries out in agony. “Forty years and my husband has a lover… I swear, this… this _system_ the government put into place…” She shakes her head again. “Well, I never thought it would fail us, but it did… I’d rather not know at all of Eugene’s infidelity.”

 

“But, you can work it out now-,” Castiel protests. The system had always been in place during his lifetime and he had never seen anything wrong with it. It seemed like a great way to find one’s soulmate.

 

Darla shakes her head firmly. “No, Castiel,” she says, taking her change and shoving it back into her wallet. “We can’t.”

 

He flinches as she storms out past her husband who desperately tries to talk to her, but Castiel can seem them fighting in the parking lot, in the car, and until they disappear entirely. Castiel sighs sadly. Maybe the system wasn’t as foolproof as it first seemed.

 

“Cas. Order up!” Gabriel calls from the kitchen, making him jump. Castiel turns and gathers up the plate that belongs to Dean’s table.

 

“Gabriel,” he says, drawing his brother’s whiskey-colored eyes up to him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How many marks do you have?”

 

“What?” Gabriel frowns, his head tilting to the side.

 

“How many marks do you have?” Castiel repeats, wanting to know.

 

Gabriel laughs and holds up his arm, which is full of black tally marks. “Women, man, they just love me!”

 

Castiel internally flinches. Gabriel, he knew, loved too easily. His brother never acts as though he’s hurting, but Castiel had to wonder. Did it hurt him? To know that so many women had come to love him but none stayed? Sighing again, Castiel picks up the plate and walks back to Dean’s table, setting his morning meal down in front of him.

 

Dean smiles a little and picks up his fork. “Thanks,” he says sincerely, and Castiel nods, but he’s not completely there with Dean. His mind is elsewhere, wondering if he’s falsely believed in something. “You alright?”

 

The concern in Dean’s tone makes him look down in surprise. “I’ve just been thinking is all,” he admits quietly.

 

Dean chuckles. “Uh oh, dangerous.”

 

“It’s… about the _system_.”

 

Dean pauses and takes a bite, before speaking again. Castiel isn’t sure, but he’s almost positive Dean sounds bitter. “What about it?”

 

“I always thought it was so… ingenious. Perfect. But, after seeing Mr. and Mrs. MacGuire… and knowing my brother, I just… _wonder_ about it.” He glances down at Dean’s arms, wishing he could see the marks or lack there of on the man’s arms, but it isn’t his place, and Castiel knows that.

 

Dean snorts and takes another bite. “Eh, don’t bother yourself with it, it’s too big for just one person to ponder on. Trust me.”

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How many do you have?” he asks but the question goes unanswered and Castiel doesn’t pry further.

 

“Winter’s gonna be harsh this year,” Gabriel remarks to Castiel later that night as they’re closing up. “Can already smell the cold.”

 

Castiel looks over at Gabriel in worry. A lot of their town lived in the mountains where it a greater risk of survival came into play. He knows for certain Dean lives high up in the woods on his own in a trailer he pulls behind him with his truck.

 

“How bad?” he asks, his eyes dropping to the money he had been attempting to count.

 

“Supposedly first real winter storm is coming up soon. A month, maybe?” Gabriel shrugs. “But who knows. Why?”

 

Castiel shrugs and goes back to counting; Gabriel doesn’t need to know everything. When Gabriel is ready to close up, Castiel finishes counting, stashes the money away, and he follows Gabriel out where they part in the parking lot. He watches Gabriel drive away in his beat up beamer, while Castiel turns to look at his own car, which is newer, but by no means equipped for winter.

 

He finds himself standing at the end of the entrance, his eyes turned to west where he knows Dean lives in the remote area of the woods and mountains. He only knows this because that is the direction Dean arrives from every morning. A biting wind from the north begins to tickle along his skin and he shivers, gasping when his breath comes out in a white cloud. He doesn’t understand the sinking fear in his chest but Castiel has a feeling he will soon.

 

The trailer that would have been connected to Dean’s truck, sits between some trees in the middle of nowhere. Castiel only finds it because there’s a small road that branches off from the main. It’s the only way Dean could get into town. He sits in his own car, staring at the door to Dean’s trailer, shut and quiet in the early morning. He isn’t sure why he’s there, he doesn’t even know Dean, but he climbs out anyway and walks up to knock.

 

The door yanks open and Dean stands in its place, still covered in long sleeves, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He blinks in surprise and then frowns, plucking the pink brush from his mouth. “What are you doing here?” he asks as he turns to spit toothpaste into a sink, Castiel presumes.

 

“I don’t know,” he says, admits, confesses.

 

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Okay?”

 

“Gabriel says the winter is going to be bad and a nasty snow storm is coming… I didn’t know if you knew.” Castiel shrugs and picks at his jacket helplessly. “I wanted to make sure you knew.”

 

Dean shifts from foot to foot before stepping aside and gesturing for Castiel to come in. “Come on, it’s freezing.”

 

He nods and takes the two steps up into Dean’s space, shutting the door behind with him with a click. It’s a cramped space, but Dean moves around it easily. “Did you know?” he wonders.

 

Dean shrugs as he pulls on yet another shirt, long sleeved, red and black plaid. “Nope. But now  I do… and who knows what the weather’ll be _today_ let alone this weekend. You can’t always believe the forecast, ya know?”

 

“I know,” Castiel says as he slowly sinks down onto the makeshift couch. “I just… I mean, if you needed somewhere to stay, I would let you stay with me.”

 

Dean snorts and laughs, disappearing into his small bathroom to gurgle his throat. Castiel waits patiently, his eyes falling onto a picture in a frame; a young man with long brown hair, hazel eyes, and the most dazzling smile stared back at him. Was he Dean’s lover? Dean’s sibling? Or was he just one of the random people found in picture frames?

 

Of course, if he happened to be Dean’s lover, Dean bore no mark for him. That made Castiel sad.

 

“Stay with you, huh?” Dean asks as he returns, picking up his leather jacket from the opposite makeshift couch. “Don’t even know you… Cas-tea-whatever.”

 

“Castiel,” he says again, a little hurt that Dean did not remember his name. “Novak.”

 

“Right. Gabe’s brother or husband or whatever.” Dean shakes his head and grabs a set of keys and his cell phone. “Look, Castiel, it’s nice of you to offer, but I’m set up here, alright?”

 

“But the storm-.”

 

“I’ve weathered worse, believe me. Now, come one. I gotta go, so you do too.” Dean gestures at the door, ushering him back outside into the cold. “Jesus, it’s cold as Satan’s nipple out here.”

 

Castiel frowns. “It’s… ‘hot as Satan’s asshole’... The saying-.”

 

Dean snorts and locks up the trailer. “Haven’t you heard?” he asks, looking at him seriously. “The Devil’s as cold as ice, baby. He don’t burn hot.”

 

Castiel’s frown deepens and he watches Dean walk over to his truck. His skeptical gaze follows Dean all of the way down the hill.

 

 

 

“Do you know anything about Dean Winchester?” Castiel asks as he helps Gabriel unload his truck to prepare for the storm. They were stocking up on bread and milk, just in case.

 

“Dean?” Gabriel shrugs and hands Castiel a gallon of milk to hold. “He’s new in town, pretty quiet, pretty serious. I don’t know a _lot_ about him, why?”

 

“I’m just curious.” He shrugs, accepting another gallon to hold in his other hand.

 

“You got a crush?” Gabriel asks with a sly wink, but Castiel’s stare is unwavering, and they both realize Castiel is serious fairly quickly. “I mean, I just know that he’s got a rough past, or that’s what I hear… I mean, I’ve never _heard_ him talking about it, but you can tell, you know?”

 

“He does seem… sad,” Castiel says as he follows Gabriel into the small house Gabriel lives out of. “As if he’s had his heart broken before.”

 

“Probably has.” Gabriel loads the milk into the fridge gallon by gallon. “Why do you think he never shows off his arms? He’s either got _no_ marks, more than me, or they’re all scabbed over.”

 

“Scabbed over?” Castiel asks; he’s never heard of this term before. He knew of having none, one, or many, but what did scabbed over represent?

 

“If a tally,” Gabriel starts, turning to accept the milk Castiel is holding, “is scarred over, it means the person is dead.”

 

Castiel’s eyes widen. “What?” he gasps, truly shocked. “ _Dead_? That can _happen_?”

 

“Well, _yeah_ , Cas. People die every day-.”

 

“But… When you find your soulmate, how do they just…” Castiel trails off, wondering if Dean is covered in scars. “I mean… how many people can one meet and watch die while they keep going? At such a young age, like Dean. He’s not _old_.”

 

“Older than you,” Gabriel replies. “Older than me.”

 

“Not by _much_.”

 

“Look, it’s not your business Cas, so I suggest you keep your nosy-nose out of it.” Gabriel shuts the fridge with a clang. “Got it?” He sticks his finger in Castiel’s chest, making him flinch and rub the sore spot.

 

“Got it,” he whispers.

 

 

 

Castiel wakes the next night due to wind howling and rattling his windows. He sits up and looks over at his cat, who is comfortably purring away on his designated pillow. The hardwood floor is a shock to his system as his feet touch the cold planks, making him shiver, and wrap a robe around his frame. The house isn’t freezing cold, but it isn’t warm either, so Castiel cannot imagine what Dean is going through.

 

When he goes to stand by the window, Castiel pulls the thin curtain back, and gasps at the winter wonderland outside. tt’s snowed so much, Castiel begins to really _worry_. It only takes him a moment to turn, pick up Noodles, who protests by meowing darkly, and stuffing the cat into his cat carrier.

 

“Sorry buddy,” he apologizes, as he dresses in several layers, and puts a blanket in and another over the carrier. He can’t just _leave_ Noodles in the house while he leaves. The thought that he is being stupid fills his mind for a moment, but soon he dismisses it, and instead packs a box of food as well, soon carrying himself, the cat, and the food out to the car, which is blessedly not covered too much since the wind kept blowing the snow off of the vehicle.

 

The car chugs and hisses as he attempts to start it, but soon it rumbles to life, and Castiel blasts the heat, making sure pull on his gloves, hat, and scarf. The sky is choked with flakes and Castiel can barely see the road in front of him, but he makes the slow trek out of town and toward the main road. He can’t leave Dean to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere; he just _can’t_. The drive to Dean’s home, in normal weather, did not take very long, maybe twenty minutes, but in the snowstorm, he didn’t arrive for a whole hour and a half. Making it up the hill had been the hardest part, but eventually, Castiel had gotten the car pulled up next to Dean’s truck, which was covered in snow, and he left the car running, to jump and knock on Dean’s door.

 

He knocks three times before it finally wrenched open, and Dean stood in its place, much like the other morning. Dean is dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt, his hair a muss from sleep, and his eyes sunken into his skull. His eyes widen in recognition and then he glares. “Goddamn it, Castiel! What the hell are you _doing_ here?!”

 

“There’s a storm-,” Castiel tries to say as he shivers. “I couldn’t leave you alone, just in case-.”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean hisses. “You’re fucking _nuts_.”

 

“I brought food,” Castiel says as he turns to shuffle back to his car, gathering up the box of canned goods. Dean meets him halfway, carting the food inside, and then Castiel shuts his car off and gathers up the cat, following Dean inside. Once the door is shut, the wind ceases to howl, but it continues to rock the trailer dangerously.

 

“You’re fucking _crazy_ ,” Dean growls, but he’s looking through the box with curiosity, and then he turns to look at Castiel again. “The fuck is that?”

 

“My cat,” he say as he sets the carrier down, opening the door. “I couldn’t leave him-.”

 

“So you brought him here?” Dean shakes his head. “Dude, you’re fucking certified.”

 

“I just wanted to _help_.” Castiel looks at Dean sadly. “I was worried-... I couldn’t let you freeze all alone. What if something happens? At least I’ll be here to help!”

 

Dean shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand up every which way. “Okay, okay… but I’m _fine_. No power right now, but I’m fine.”

 

“See!” Castiel cries, picking up Noodles, who protests with another disgruntled mewl. “It’ll get cold out here. We can drive back to my house-.”

 

“ _No_ way,” Dean says with a firm shake of his head. “Too fuckin’ dangerous at night. Got it?”

 

He nods, setting Noodles down on the couch. “I know it’s crazy… me just showing up here.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean says as he pulls out a bottle of water from the box to sip at. “It is.”

 

“But… I didn’t want to leave you all alone.” Castiel shrugs and sits beside the cat. His eyes continue to wander along Dean’s arms and wrists; he still hasn’t had the guts to ask again, but eventually, Dean catches him staring, so he yanks his gaze to the photograph of the young, hazel-eyed man.

 

“It’s a nice sentiment,” Dean says as he walks over to sit down opposite him, still sipping at the water. “But now I guess we’re stuck out here all alone… Well, us and your furball.”

 

“Noodles.”

 

“ _Noodles_? Dude, first Castiel and now Noodles. Somehow, I’m not that surprised.” Dean snorts and chugs the water bottle then. “So, what’s with the need to be nice to me, hm?”

 

“I don’t know… I’m interested in you,” he admits with a blush. “Have been ever since I first saw you.”

 

“You wanna see my arms?” Dean asks bitterly, his eyes sharp with anger. Castiel shakes his head no. “Why not? Everyone else fuckin’ does. Nosy ass people in this town. Can’t wait to leave.”

 

“You’re leaving?” Castiel asks, feeling his heart break a little.

 

“Does it _look_ like I stay around long?” Dean snorts and shakes his head, crumpling up the bottle and tossing it aside. Noodles jumps from his spot and tackles the bottle, eagerly batting it along the floor. Dean laughs. “Well, at least _one_ of us is entertained.”

 

Castiel smiles a little at Noodles and then says, “I’d hate for you to leave.”

 

“You don’t know me.”

 

“But I want to.”

 

Dean laughs bitterly. “Trust me, you don’t want to get to know me.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because. You just wouldn’t.”

 

The conversation dies for a while after that, but either neither of them mind or they’re too afraid to speak again. Eventually, Castiel opens his mouth, but Dean beats him to the punch line.

 

“I’m going to bed. Make yourself comfortable.”

 

“Okay,” he says, barely a whisper. His eyes follow Dean shly, and eventually the trailer goes so quiet that Castiel can hear his own heartbeat or maybe that’s just the thrum of the wind. He isn’t sure.

 

 

The morning brings more snow and bitter attitudes. Dean doesn’t speak to him and Castiel doesn’t prompt him. He simply keeps Dean company and reads the book he’d thrown into the box last minute. Dean plays with Noodles for what feels like hours as they ride out the storm together. It gets cold in the trailer, so cold that Castiel starts to worry for the cat, but Noodles doesn’t seem to mind; his thick fur seems to be holding up quite well.

 

However, he has no fur and neither does Dean. They huddle under the blankets Castiel brought and stare at one another to pass the time. Eventually, Castiel finally breaks their silence, which has gone on for hours. “Who’s the man in the photograph?” He points to the table and Dean turns the frame to look, his face dissolving from his stoic mask to something akin to tenderness.

 

“My brother,” he says warmly. “Sam.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

The tenderness fades and Dean’s lips form a hard line. “Dead.”

 

“Oh- Oh, I’m sorry-.” Castiel tries to apologize, but he fumbles. How was he to know Dean’s brother to be dead? It wasn’t his fault, but he still felt _guilty_. “I’m really sorry.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean replies in a clipped tone. “Me too.”

 

“Can I ask what happened?”

 

“Car accident.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Been dead over ten years and I still get shitty dreams about it.” Dean shakes his head angrily, clenching his hands into shaking fists. “I told him I hated him- last words I ever fucking said to him…”

 

“I’m sure he knew you didn’t mean it,” Castiel whispers, getting up to join Dean on his side, lying his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Right?”

 

When Dean looks at him, Castiel can see the pain in the lost green eyes. “God, I hope so.”

 

“Do you still tell him?”

 

“ _Now_? Dude, he’s dead-.”

 

“Doesn’t mean he can’t hear you.” Castiel smiles a little and Dean stares at him as if he had spoken Latin. “You never know.”

 

“That’s… kinda smart.” Dean glances up at the ceiling, Heaven, and blushes. “I-I love ya, Sammy.”

 

Castiel smiles. “And, I am sure he loves you.”

 

“He was a good kid… Real smart… Was on his way to Stanford when a trucker hit him head on. Drunk.” Dean grips his knees tightly, his jaw set. “If I could, I’d kill the sumbitch who took Sam away from me.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” He reaches for Dean’s hand to hold, which makes the older man blink in surprise. Castiel brings Dean’s knuckles up to his lips to kiss shyly. “I’m sorry you lost your brother.”

 

Dean visibly gulps. “Thanks.”

 

“Do you like to play cards? I brought a deck…” Castiel glances at the box, wanting to break the awkward between them. Noodles stretched out beneath a blanket on the other side, asleep and purring contentedly. The sight makes Castiel smile.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yes?” He looks at Dean again, blue meeting green.

 

“How many marks do you have?” Dean whispers, even though Castiel knows Dean knew the answer.

 

“None.”

 

Dean nods and then rolls up his sleeves, both arms, and Castiel’s eyes fall down to Dean’s flesh. His jaw fell open at the sight; Dean’s arms were covered in scarred tally marks. From wrist to elbow on both arms. His eyes slowly flitted back up to Dean’s, who stared at him solemnly.

 

“You want to count them?” Dean asks, his voice full of bitter pain.

 

Castiel shakes his head. “No,” he whispers, reaching over to hold Dean’s hands in his. “I’m sorry you’ve lost so many, Dean.”

 

Dean looks away, uncomfortable, even pulling his hands free. “I kept tellin’ my doctor I’m broken… Can’t have loved this many people… Can’t have lost this many people.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

“Said I… I love too easy… too hard. My first marks appeared when I was real little. For my parents… my brother… my friends. My crushes in high school.” Dean runs his hands over his face. “People get close to me and they die… It’s why I said you don’t want to get to know me.”

 

Castiel slides his hand to touch Dean’s arm, tracing the scars like battle wounds. “I am not afraid,” he breathes. Dean looks up at him in surprise. “I am not afraid.”

 

“Cas-.”

 

“If I die because we grew close, then I must say, my life is well worth lived.” Castiel presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek, surprised when Dean turns enough to kiss his mouth, firmly but gently.

 

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Dean mutters against his lips.

 

Castiel smiles and shuts his eyes. “I know… I know.”

  
By morning, Castiel notices a black mark on his wrist.

 

 

 


End file.
